


I Didn't Start This War

by AzureXSnake



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, So much angst, Will Add as I go, You're welcome and I'm sorry, building required, not sure how far that's gonna be tbh, some eventual nsfw, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureXSnake/pseuds/AzureXSnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You join Overwatch at 18 and work under Mercy. You crush on the Commander and things go downhill from there without anything going anywhere. So why don't you give up on him or what you could have had?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You’d been at the ripe, young age of 17 when Overwatch first set their sights on you. Years of nights spent studying anything you could get your hands on in the science and development field and physical training sessions to auto files of the most brilliant researchers and theorists, when most would start their favorite playlist- it was all so you could one day stand at the side of those you looked up to. It all paid off.

Truly, it was surreal seeing Commander Morrison standing outside your door himself, while you were covered in grease smudges from the fine-tuning of your latest project. Yet, there he was, asking with all the modesty someone of his position could muster if he could be let in to speak with you. Of course you had said yes.

Your mother didn’t take to the idea, even with the head of command taking up nearly half the sofa. Your father was much keener on the prospect of his only child and daughter joining the ranks of the most revered organization to date. It’d give him something to brag about to the neighborhood.

“My girl’s a hero. What’s your kid doing?”

Nonetheless, Commander Morrison had respected your mother’s wishes and let you be until you could follow your own path as an adult. With teary eyes, she did eventually see you off with a smile on her face, proud of you despite her fears. That, in and of itself, made you feel all the more safe, and sure that setting off was what you were meant to do.

Your continued studies of science had branched out even further in that time spent waiting home. The health engineering field had beckoned. In turn, you answered with startling dedication. Texts and documents became your bed, potential blueprints your pillows. You were fast-tracked to working at Dr. Zeigler’s side, finding your home in the Swiss Headquarters. Biotic Fields had been your creation; though you did prefer the sound of Pocket Healers, it was deemed too “unofficial.”

While you never intended to, you often found yourself apart from the rest of the research team. Whether it was because of your age and their feelings about it or just your closing off too much in your work, you were never really sure. Regardless, Dr. Zeigler would always pop in at just the right moments to detach you and bring you into her circle. She babied you and it wasn't hard to tell. Never condescendingly so, just that she knew, skilled and talented as you were, you were naïve.

More often than not, you’d be ordered to stand by at the base while others were sent on missions, herself included.

“The battlefield is a cruel place for someone so young,” she once told you. “Preserve your smile for us when we come home. We may need it.”

That’s what Overwatch had quickly become to you: a home. Your home. Patching up your allies gave you a decent idea as to what you were missing. Commander Morrison had more than a few times sat in front of you with nasty wounds that he couldn’t quite answer for. He’d awkwardly rub the back of his neck to the point that it could even be called, dare you say it, sheepish. As though the lack of explanation was somehow embarrassing on his part. And maybe it was. Despite not ever seeing him in combat, you’d heard the whispers.

“When the going gets tough, Jack Morrison gets reckless.”

He’d rush in with next to no cover to protect. And he always did protect. He’d thanked you a number of times for developing the biotic fields, saying they’d saved him in more pinches than you really felt comfortable with. Somewhere along the line, you’d fallen for him just a little. His throwing himself into the most dangerous of situations you could imagine, based on his damage, made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Just one time, much to your irritation, had those feelings gotten the better of you and you hadn’t even realized the tears flooding from your eyes until he asked if everything was alright.

“Commander, please,” you grit out, more tears building up along with your rising frustrations, however childish and near-sighted they may be, “at least try not to get yourself into so much trouble. We couldn’t take it if something happened to you.” You’d meant that _you_ couldn't take it if something happened to him and maybe he understood that, maybe he didn’t. You had no way of knowing.

He had granted your selfish request, though. Yes, he would try to be more aware of himself since everyone was so concerned for his safety. Neither of you spoke a word for the rest of the time you spent wrapping him up until he nearly looked mummified with all the bandages. There was just comfortable silence and, what you’d learned after reflecting back on it, his understanding of how you felt.

That’s something you had a lot of time to do these days: reflect...

You were worried about him. Worried about losing him when you couldn’t be at his side in any other form than the healing fields in his belt. The ones he had a special pouch dedicated to.

That was life at Overwatch. With time, you were brought along on some simpler missions. Payload escorting with low risk and always with someone at your side. It was usually Reinhardt. He joked and made you feel a part of the team, even if you never really did much other than observe and take notes.

“What is a researcher, after all, if they do not get out and do research?!” he bellowed with a hearty laugh and a slap to your back that nearly toppled you. For all the physical conditioning you did for missions like these, you still felt as though he could snap you like a twig. It just couldn’t be helped. He was too humungous.

But those chances to leave the labs with stark white walls did prove useful. You took notes on team building and coordination, how to maximize heal when needed and minimize damage when especially vital. Which situations lead to more favorable outcomes. How to reduce team strain. Team stress. The importance of relationship building and how treacherous it could be. So, for all your new-gained knowledge and growth since joining Overwatch, why did none of it prove useful when it mattered the most?


	2. Chapter 2

Overwatch… changed… more noticeably, anyway, during your fifth year as an operative. Gabriel Reyes, a serious man of great merit from your understanding, had been changing along with it. Outwardly, the organization that you aligned yourself with, that you owed more than you could ever repay to, that you loved more than you could express for its ideals and who it had brought you together with… it was disorderly. People called its actions into question. Riots broke out and where all anyone could hear was ‘Down with Overwatch!’ You knew better, though, than the public.  


Overwatch was in turmoil.

Reyes was terror-inducing and tender all at once. Though you never worked with him personally, aside from the few times he had popped up in the hospital wing, those who had only ever sang his praises. It didn’t surprise you in the least that they would, and, yet, it struck you that he and Commander Morrison were close friends. They had been Overwatch; two halves of the same whole. Conflicting leaders brought together by their desire to do good in the world.  


It was too good to be true.

The situation between the two quickly spiraled out of control. The world around your family was screaming for accountability to acts so outside Overwatch’s moral code that you didn’t even know where to begin with on how to prove its innocence. Despite your access to classified files, top brass having taken notice of your astounding work… a prodigy they had called you… sorting out the puzzle of chaos and backdoors, lies and traps, everything coming down in front of you- on your own, it was a daunting task, if not impossible altogether.

Still, you tirelessly threw yourself at it. For the sake of everyone you loved, your personal research was put on hold in favor of sleuthing. You poured yourself out over the details of missions that crossed the line of global legality, and knew that Jack would never authorize, but only those in Overwatch could perform. Even worse still were the files of missing and/or assassinated agents. It was difficult to tell sometimes and it hollowed you to look at the photos of their death scenes. There weren’t even always bodies to recover.

You now hate yourself for not recognizing sooner the storm that been brewing around you since day one. You were too young to fully understand what it was that was taking place, you know, but dammit, why couldn’t you have just seen it?!  


Seen Talon… chasing at your heels to destroy everything from the inside out…

Jack had taken the brunt of it all. He suffered through the accusations, betrayal, fear, pain… and all of it more acutely than you did. He always thanked you, though, for your hard work and you openly cried into his arms when it became too much.

“Why?!” you screamed into his chest, unable to hold yourself together, even for him. “Why is this happening? What did we do?”

You cried yourself out in the hallway where you stood, passing out eventually from months of exhaustion finally catching up to you in that moment. You didn’t remember heading back to your quarters after that or even how you got there. He had to have carried you. It was the dead of night and you had been the only two up in the base. The thought of it made you start up all over again.

Days later, rumors of uprisings within Overwatch broke out. To be sure, the UN was already drafting the Petras Act, sealing Overwatch's fate once and for all. Few, if any at all, know the true cause of the unprecedented battle that broke out shortly after with Jack leading one side and Gabriel, the other.

Victory belonged to no one in the end either way.

Dr. Zeigler spoke on the fallout in an interview sometime after things… went to shit, who was anyone kidding? You found her choice of words bitterly ironic, considering how you, she, your home, research, colleagues, and so much more had all be caught in the crossfire. It was still unclear to you how a facility as large as Swiss HQ had been utterly decimated as a result of the infighting; how Overwatch fell at the hands of those who nurtured it into being.

It just never seemed right… not any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So due to expanded information, I'll now be handling the story differently. Blackwatch and Overwatch clearly mingled freely while still belonging to their separate factions. Shouldn't change too much, though. More chapters to come soon, be on the lookout!!!
> 
> Feedback is always nice and if I really did make some big story booboo based on facts that Blizzard has confirmed, I would love to know and make corrections! Thank you so much for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**16:42 hours**

You’re at it again, photos and reports sprawled out over your desk but the words blend into each other and images look more like Picasso paintings than anything else. Only in red and black and white… And more red, more white… Too much red…

… So many gone…

Clear as day, Talon is pulling strings at the twisted core of the mess in front of you. Under the weight of it all, your head bows into your hands accompanied by a heavy sigh. You wonder how it ever managed to come to this. Between missing comrades and corruption within Overwatch and Blackwatch alike, you question whether or not the situation is salvageable at all, or if you’re just wasting your time skirting a reality you refuse to face; Overwatch is falling.

Though Blackwatch has long since been suspended and funding pulled, the damage is done and all steps lead back to Overwatch and Jack alike, with your covert ops team obviously not being public knowledge. Seemingly overnight, the world turned on you, him, and your family when they owe you _so much._

No, bad thought, bad thought…

_I joined to help those that needed it most, not to be owed a spot in their history books._

The resounding metal clank from a knock at your door startles you out of your depressed reverie. You grant entry without turning around, too stuck in your own turbulent emotions while still furiously attempting to gather your thoughts all at once. Vaguely, you try to imagine what a sight whoever is at the door is about to be greeted with. Yikes.

Your body stills immediately when his voice rings clear through your quarters, a question posed; had you eaten anything yet? In an instant, your attention falls completely to him like it’s never been paid to anything else before.

“Not yet, sir,” you admit, turtling between your shoulders as you slowly turn around to face him. He doesn’t like you overlooking your physical health in favor of efficiency and you’ve been prone to doing it quite often as of late. The memories of your breakdown in the hallway make it hard to look him in the eye now. You’d been another burden on his shoulders, the last thing you ever wanted to make yourself to him. You still are.

The sound of displeasure he makes from the back of his throat is hard to miss, slightly irritated with a generous amount of pout that turns your insides to mush against your better judgement. No matter how full your mind is with everything all over your desk, your heart forces you to make room for this one distraction. This one very welcome distraction.

His broad palm lands in your already disheveled hair to mess it up some more before a nutrition bar appears in your field of vision for you to take gingerly.

“I figured as much.” The amused affection in his voice makes you peak up at him, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your lips, tired as it may be. Things like this are why you love him as well as serving under him. Over the few years you’ve been in Overwatch, Jack has always been someone special, even if it wasn’t love at first sight and more of intense admiration to start with. He never resents those who doubt but will be the first one in the streets to ease tensions. Being the face of Overwatch hasn’t hardened him.

Thinking back on how star struck you’d felt as a teen makes your eyes burn, longing for those simpler times when you don’t feel a target sticking to the back of your head. For when Jack doesn’t have to smile through hurt and doesn’t walk around in full gear during downtime. You want that world back. You’d give anything for it.

“Hey now,” he pesters with a decidedly forceful ruffle that has you swatting his hand away, bottom lip pushing out indignantly, “don’t go getting quiet on me.”

You give him a half-assed glare but it melts off your face in seconds. Tearing into the bar, you kick back a chair at the other side of the table for him to take. He does so and begins to look over your barely legible notes. His looked rather similar when he filed these reports. Ana’s still weighs heavy on his heart.

___________________________ 

**22:18 hours**

You know the halls that you tear through. These are the walls of your home, yet, they feel so foreign as another small explosion sounds from some not-so-far-off distance and gunshots ring into your being. Angela tugs you faster along and your body is numb in a terrifyingly light way, as though you’ll just ascend into space where none of this is happening and Overwatch isn’t actively at war with itself. She vaults the both of you out the exit she’s been racing for since bursting into your quarters, leaving you with only enough time to grab your weapons and some prototypes.

Now outside your block, your knees nearly buckle under the weight of what's happening around you. Half of the Swiss Headquarters has been reduced to rubble. The fighting is close and the sides are clear. It’s black verses blue; friend verses friend. An urge to lay on the ground and deny, deny, deny forms a boulder in your stomach, pulling you down.

Angela sees the abject horror written on your face, tears glossing your eyes over. She grabs your wrist and makes for you to trail her once more. Your shell-shocked existence would have if it weren't for the shock of white-gold and signature Overwatch blue amongst the smoke and flames.

"Commander!" you holler, seeing the fire being volleyed his way. With all his years of experience and super soldier augmentation, he effortlessly evades through it, coat swirling around him as he sends his own back with the expression of someone crushed.

You break from your best friend in all of the organization and dash to him, ready to do the only thing you know how: provide support. He catches you in his peripheral and his eyes widen.

Covering for the distraction, you throw out an Orion Disc. The fiery barrier domes over and you’re halfway to his position, tunnel-vision setting in despite your unpreparedness to engage. It doesn't matter. The moment has come for you to have his back, your own personal well-being be damned in the face of his life at stake! Mercy is quick to respond in turn, however, instantly at your side, and her grip on you stronger this time.  


“Get her out of here!” Shots fly past him as the barrier constricts, narrowly missing the both of you. “GO!”  


There is no room to disobey, but…  


"We must go, Y/N," she pleads, pulling you back against your will. In a burst of warmth, your shield goes down and you want to fight. You want to... But your body isn't strong enough to fight hers. She's been at this longer than you have and her resolve is firmer.  


A figure breaks through the haze in your blind spot and you, in the midst of your desperation, you sense him too late-!

You brace for shots that never land, though you hear them go off nonetheless. Your eyes snap back open to spot the motionless body on the ground: Marcus, a strong member of Blackwatch’s support squad that regularly landed himself in the infirmary. What did he think he was doing, rushing in and…-  


A sudden realization deals a blow far worse than you could have imagined possible: you are a liability to your Commander, the person you wish to protect above all else, not an asset. That could have been you, Mercy, _him_!  


_You are still just a burden!!!_  


Unbearable pain blossoms through your chest and tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you stop struggling with the Valkyrie behind you. She allows you a moment to sob and wail before spinning the body you have effectively left behind and squeezing you for all she is worth.  


"I know!" she yells just to be heard over the sounds of battle accosting you from all sides, her state an exponentially more composed version of your own. "But now is not the time. Come.”  


Does she though?! Does she understand that _everything_ you have put forth since joining what is falling to pieces around you has all amounted to NOTHING?!  


…Of course she does…  


No matter how right she is, your heart, however useless it may be, stays on the battlefield with him, leaving you hollowed out as you sprint behind her. Wherever Mercy is leading you now, it has not been spared from the carnage. You can't help but occasionally spot a fallen soldier and, no matter the side they had taken up, each time is another sucker punch to your very soul. They were all your family and, no matter how many times you refute the vision, you keep seeing Jack, broken and dying on the ground.  


The sound of an airlock release pulls you back to the present once more. You honestly hadn’t noticed stopping at all, or that your lungs burn with all the smoke you inhaled on your way. The door of a safe-house, situated out of the crossfire but not off-base, swings open. A few others have already made themselves comfortable in the small barracks. That is, if a person can even be called comfortable knowing everything they have strived to uphold and cared for over however-many-years is crumbling outside the door. Mercy's gear emits a faint glow on its own, faintly illuminating the space and, with it, a painful irony.  


Where usually it serves as a beacon of hope and healing, now it only sheds light on the grief you all share together. Tear-streaked faces, puffy eyes, thin-lipped grimaces… Reflections of yourself shown back at you. A sudden feeling of unity washes over you. You are all scared. You are all hurt. Worried. Plagued by uncertainty. Never has an organization of this magnitude and renown succumbed to such a tragic demise.  


That night, you watch it play out through the thoroughly proofed windows of your temporary haven. You witness Overwatch fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!!!! After a very long time away from the game itself and one very good and also, painfully, incomplete fanfiction (search up Misconduct by Antiloquist, FiveTail if you wanna stay up until the wee hours of the morning because you cannot put it down) later, I'm back \o/ I'm sorry to have left everyone waiting so long for this chapter, so hopefully it's worth it! Thank you to everyone who leaves feedback on this mess, it means the world to me! :D
> 
> UPDATED: You now have definitive abilities to look forward to!!!! :O GASP Good golly Miss Molly, now we're cooking with _fire!_ ;)
> 
> Orion Disc: A small, UFO-shaped barrier device. Uses the same fusion as stars to form a domed barrier of fire that disintegrates all threats while gradually shrinking with damage until imploding on itself and healing those inside. Provide ample friction/agitation to activate.


End file.
